


Rendezvous of the Random Sort

by Svengali_Khan



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svengali_Khan/pseuds/Svengali_Khan
Summary: This is in response to the July 2018 Facebook Challenge. My story parameters were as follows:Fandom: Old Fandom (For me, this was "Teen Wolf")Pairing: Rare Pairing (The very handsome, Sheriff Stilinski, and the very cute, Danny Mahealani!)Setting: Fusion (Read on!!)





	Rendezvous of the Random Sort

Dressed in jeans, a tight button-up shirt, and regular shoes, the man felt like he stood out, even though no one even looked in his general direction. Locking the door to the truck, he took a look around. On one side, the shipping docks were quiet except for the occasional lone horn from a passing boat. To the other side, no trains passed along the railroad tracks. All in all, things were quiet. He liked quiet. Up ahead, he noticed the line to get inside the club proved almost non-existent. After the long drive, the last thing he wanted to do was wait in line.

At the door of the place, he flashed his identification, to which the girl taking his money gave a second glance. This was the typical reaction so he was used to it, by now. "I'm just here to meet a friend."

"There's a cover, tonight. Live show and band."

"Twenty-five, am I right?" He said, already pulling out his wallet.

"You've seen the flyer?"

From one pocket, he took out a blue piece of paper. "This one?"

"That would be the one," she nodded, sliding a laminated card across the entry desk. "This entitles you to backstage access after the show. You can't bring drinks, though. I don't have to tell _you_ why. Also, show the bartender this card and your first two drinks are half-off. Have a good night, sir."

He put down the money, slipped the card into his front pants' pocket, and went inside. Pinkish-blue light from the overhead sign gave him an odd, otherworld-sort of look for a few seconds. Going through the door, he thought he might be entering just another dingy warehouse. Inside, however, he found himself in the midst of ambient light from various sources, red and blue gels in the corners, and several dozen lighted round tables strewn about. Around one hundred people milled about, some talking, some laughing, more than a few dancing, and all of them having a good time. Just coming into the space made him feel better about coming.

Although he knew it to be ridiculous, he thought he felt a sort of heat coming from the card in his pocket. Being in his line of work, however, he knew what guilt felt like. It felt like imaginary heat from an item he should not have. If it were ever to be found, he would have to answer more than a few uncomfortable questions from a concerned doctor, her inquisitive son, and his own over-protective, more than inquisitive son.

Overhead, several people looked down on the area from a sort of metal catwalk. Among them, he spotted a stylish blonde girl and a pixie-esque redhead talking amongst themselves. To one side of them, caught up in the antics of someone on the dance floor, a tall brunette boy laughed. The three of them were together, he could tell. Friends, maybe, all here for the show. At least the girls were, he told himself. Walking under the catwalk, they faded from his vision. He picked one of the recessed alcoves under the same catwalk and slid into a booth.

Not long after he got comfortable, a girl in a pair of black leggings with white skulls wearing pink bows came over. She flashed him a nice smile and asked, "What'll it be, sir?"

"Cosmopolitan," he said, already tasting the triple sec and vodka. "Make it a double in one glass, please. Also, could it just be in a regular glass, not a cocktail glass?"

"Coming right up," she said, going to the bar.

He decided not to use the card on the first drink. Four would be his limit and he would use it for the last two. If he was going backstage, he would need the last two. The hotel was a block away from here so he would not need to drive after drinking. _Safety first_ , he told himself as he settled into the booth.

All manner of people were out tonight. Older men, younger women, older women and a few younger men. He thought of his own son and the types of places he might have gone to which could have been like this. In a town of around thirty thousand, it was easier to be invisible there. He knew about the type of crowd _Jungle_ attracted. _Sinema_ was always busy on the weekends and Thursdays, when they let in the kids while restricting their drinking. He imagined this place, _The Bronze_ , was the same way.

His drink came in a standard, tall glass. The girl put it down with a napkin and another smile. When he reached for his wallet, she held up a hand. "I've started a tab, just settle up at the end of the night."

"Thanks," he said, reaching for the glass. "When does the show start?"

"The first half is after the band's first set. The Dingoes have a participant in it." She smiled. "The second half will be around twelve. You're staying for the whole thing, though, right?"

"It's a safe bet to say I'm staying." He sipped his drink.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She slid her hands into the front of her apron. "New to town, I mean. I think I'd remember you."

"Pretty new, yeah," he told her. "I've been through a few times. A lot of dead people turn up around these parts and your sheriff calls me up from time to time."

"Then you know to be careful."

"I do. Thank you for your concern."

"One thing?" She leaned in. Her face rippled. "Not all of us are bad."

"Point taken," he said, raising the glass in her direction. "You stay on the right side of things and we won't have any problems."

As the server walked away, the man noticed the blonde girl from the catwalk following her movements. The redhead was talking with the tall male. All three of them now stood near the stairs. The blonde gave him a curious look and he just smiled. The vodka was strong in his drink.

Half an hour and another double Cosmopolitan later, the man still lounged in the booth and took in the sights of _The Bronze_. The music had slowed, bringing some of the couples out onto the dance floor. The blonde and the redhead danced a few rounds but he did not peg them as a couple. Friends, yes, but they were not a couple as he understood one. The brunette male sat on the stairs, then stood on the stairs, then meandered closer to the stage. The band, _Dingoes Ate My Baby_ , were setting up. The brunette and the band members talked, then the lone boy started helping them move their equipment on stage.

In the booth, the man recognized Devon MacLeish and the redhead, Daniel Osbourne. Daniel, called Oz by his friends, might have been very much like Scott but he was also very different, as well. From their previous meetings, he knew Oz to be much more mellow and far less apt to let his emotions get the better of him. Still, he had far less control than Scott did over what happened to him during the full moon. This lack of control made him dangerous but he took precautions, just like Scott did when the transformations started happening.

The band began their sound check with Devon and Oz doing the vocal back-and-forth. An announcer came out to quiet the DJ and prep the crowd. The blonde and the redhead found seats at one of the lit round tables. The boy joined them soon after. The waitress brought a round of mochas to the table. The first song started, the sound echoing up into the high ceilings.

The man slid out of the booth and walked over to the stairs, drink in hand. Another fifty people had come in but they were dispersed in a way as to not crowd the place. A place like this could accommodate an easy three hundred but he suspected they would not reach that number tonight, no matter how good the band was. Ascending the stairs, he noticed the crowd more. Since he came in, the number of men to women was almost equal. He smiled at this indicator of a changing world. On the catwalk, he took in the crowd from the perspective of a nightclub patron, not a small-town sheriff.

Near the side of the stage, a tall man in a terrible shirt caught his eye. They exchanged the typical non-verbal words before the man's attention was drawn elsewhere. The sheriff sipped his drink. Songs by the band went on until they had done six. The announcer then took the stage and the lights changed. Soft blues and purples replaced the gold and red. The crowd became more attentive. So did the sheriff. This was why he made the drive all the way from Beacon Hills to Sunnydale.

"…so, without any further hold-up, let me present to you," the announcer said, his voice building in a dramatic pitch. " _The Great Contenders_!"

Four well-built and muscular males came from the back of the stage, each in a different sporting uniform, each one with their heads down. Once they were in position, a slow, rhythmic beat began, seeping out into the crowd. The quartet began a choreographed number involving a lot of hip rotations and backside pushing. Right away, the crowd began cheering, each one of them along for the ride.

On the catwalk, the sheriff moved to get a better look at the second male from the left. Under the helmet, he caught a glimpse of dark facial hair he knew to be trimmed close to a hard jaw and tight upper lip. He kept it that way to highlight his good looks and sharp features. This male followed suit, tearing away the jersey he wore, his being a Lacrosse one. Underneath, his smooth body flexed as his tight pecs caught the light. The sheriff sipped more of his drink, the stirring in his jeans an expected response to what he saw. On the end, he recognized the lead vocalist for the Dingoes, Devon. Now in a pair of football practice shorts and cleats, he gyrated along with the others.

"…for charity, ladies and everyone else!" The announcer reminded them. "Dig deep for those dollars! People are counting on you stuffing their jockstraps!"

The sheriff smiled at this and at the reaction of the crowd. The football player and the baseball player received a few tips but the majority went to the muscled Lacrosse player and the athletic hockey player on the end. Like before, he felt the imaginary heat in his pocket from the laminated card.

"You can do better!" The announcer challenged. "They don't even have gas money to get home, yet! Dig deeper, people! Look at how hard these guys are trying! Some of them are liable to throw out a hip!"

Walking toward the stairs, the sheriff did not see the blonde girl until he almost collided with her. The contents of his glass sloshed but none of it spilled. She smiled at him but no warmth lived behind that smile. Even her eyes were cold and calculating.

"What are you doing here?"

He heard every word over the din of the music and the noise. "Having a drink. Seeing a show. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Aside from showing off my stylish new top, looking out for creepers like you."

"Creepers?"

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. I've seen you skulking about all night. Now, either you're very interested in human behavior, which is cool, or you're scoping out your next meal, which isn't."

"I'm not what you're looking for, Ms. Summers."

"I'm sorry, we know each other, how?"

"You and I _don't_ know one another. However, Mr. Giles has told me a lot about you."

"What has he told you about me?"

"He said you were quite the hunter." He finished the last of his drink. "Slayer, I think he said."

"I see. So, who are you?"

He held out his hand. "Sheriff Noah Stilinski from Beacon Hills."

She shook his hand, the hardness in her face easing. "You're here for the show, then?"

"I have a friend performing in it."

"A friend, huh? Baseball or Lacrosse?"

He smiled. "Lacrosse."

"Good choice. He's beefy."

They turned toward the stairs, then, the blonde leading the way. Noah followed, his eyes scanning the crowd as they moved. At the bottom, the girl stepped off and indicated the table her friends still sat at. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

"Sorry for the mix-up. I'm going to go back and finish my mocha. Have a good time with your friend, sheriff." She paused, still smiling. "One thing, though? If I find out you're lying and something happens to that beefy Lacrosse guy? I'm coming for you and you'll be dust by the morning. We clear?"

"Crystal, Ms. Summers. We're crystal clear."

He did not watch her walk away. Instead, Noah turned his attention back to the stage where the males were finishing their performance. All four of the males took their bows, each one mouthing their thank-yous to the crowd. He made his way to the side of the stage, already touching the laminated card in his pocket, already feeling its very real ability to put him closer to his goal.

"Welcome to _The Bronze_ , backstage," the larger male at the side of the stage said. "Pass?"

Noah showed him the card.

"Down the hallway there. He'll be the first door on the right. I'll take your glass."

After handing over the melted ice in the cocktail glass, Sheriff Stilinski steeled himself and walked down the short hall to his destination. He knocked on the door. Rustling inside answered him. A voice called out, asking him to wait a moment. Nerves got the better of him as he waited, causing him to begin pacing half the length of the hallway. On his second time down, the door opened and a dark-haired male stepped out. Their eyes met.

"You came."

"I said I would," Noah nodded. "I'm here."

"Do you want to come in for a bit?"

"I'd rather just…go out. If you're finished here."

"Let me get my bag."

A few moments later and the dark-haired male exited the dressing room with a backpack and a leather jacket. Instead of going back through the club, he went down the hallway toward the exit door. Noah fell into step behind him. At the door, he covered the handle with a meaty palm.

"You look good," he said, looking into the deep, dark pools of brown. "Now, I mean. Like you are."

"Dressed, you mean."

"With your clothes on or off, you look amazing to me."

They shared another long look into one another's eyes.

"I'm a year older than your son, sheriff. That makes me twenty four. I know how old you are and it isn't a big deal for me. I wish it wasn't such a big deal with you, though. We like each other, where's the harm? Can we just hang out for the rest of the night and have a good time together? Can we just put all this analyzing and thinking bullshit to the side for the rest of the night?"

"Yeah. I think I can manage that." Noah opened the door. "You know more about this place than I do so I'm going to trust you to order delivery."

***

Just after two in the morning, a storm rolled into the area. Ten minutes after the first thunderclap, the power went out, throwing half of the city into darkness. Ten minutes after this, Noah lit two candles, placing one on the television and the other on a shelf above it. He and his hotel room guest found themselves at a loss for what to do with the rest of their night.

"I'll never find out what happens," the younger male said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Will she get her house back or will that guy just swindle her into marrying him?"

"Tomorrow is another day," Noah deadpanned.

Two fingers slid into the spaces between the buttons on his shirt. The young man leaned in close, drawing him forward. "Are you going to take this off, now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he began working the buttons on Noah's shirt loose. At the top, he eased the collar back to expose his neck. Noah slid both hands up the other's face and into his thick, dark hair. Turning his head to the side, he touched his lips to the other male's forehead. Another kiss to the side of his face, to the bridge of his nose.

"You don't have to do this. You can leave."

"Noah, I'm here. I'm not leaving unless you want me to."

"You're right where I want you to be, Danny."

"Good, then let's get you out of these clothes," the younger male said.

"Can I ask you something, first?" Noah paused, palming Danny's cheek. "Something serious."

"I never slept with your son. Me being in his room that day was about De—"

"Have you been careful here in Sunnydale?"

"Careful? Like, sex-careful?"

"No, I mean, walking around, careful." Noah turned the boy's head one way, then the other, examining his neck. "Things can sneak up on you."

"I think I understand, now."

With a smile, Danny reached into his shirt and pulled out a slender silver chain. A cross dangled on the end of it, catching the light of the candles. Leaning forward, he kissed Noah's lips with just enough force to make an impact.

"I'm careful, sheriff. Always. Everywhere." He closed his hand around the cross. "Living in Beacon Hills, seeing what I saw there, the weirdness with Scott, Liam, and all the others, I'm always careful."

"Good, because I want you around for a while." Noah held a hand to Danny's face, studying the dark pools of his brown eyes."That’s if you want to be around."

Danny laughed, putting his hands on the man's hips. "Will you stop, already? If I didn't want to be around, I wouldn't be. You know that."

"I do. I know that."

Noah leaned closer, touching his mouth to Danny's neck.

The door to the motel room creaked, bent, then came off its hinges. As it disappeared in a sudden shower of magenta sparkles, the blond girl from _The Bronze_ stepped into the doorway. She took careful aim and threw a very large, very sharp axe. Before he could move, the blade struck Noah in the chest, carrying him through the air and impaling him on the far wall. Danny took several steps back.

"What the hell?" He exclaimed, almost stumbling over his own feet. "Who the hell _are_ you and what did you just do?"

"You're welcome," the girl said, coming into the room.

A redhead followed, one hand held in the air, glowing magenta. "She would be The Slayer and she just saved your adorable ass. Nice show earlier, by the way. I swing in a whole other direction but I can appreciate the adorable when it shakes itself in front of me."

Looking away from the two females, Danny gazed at the writhing thing pinned to the wall. While it half-wore Noah Stilinski's face, it also wore a horrific face full of boned edges and grayish skin. Even while its dark life's blood drained out of it, the thing gnashed its teeth and fought to be free.

"What…the hell?" He asked, knowing not to go any closer.

"Danny?"

Whirling toward the door, the boy saw the real Noah Stilinski come into the room. The man's face was ashen, stricken with worry. Brushing by the two girls, he held both arms open to take in the boy. They shared a tight embrace, after which the man took hold of the boy's face, turning it to one side, then the other. Danny felt a wave of déjà vu.

"Are you okay? Did it hurt you?"

"I'm good, thanks to the Dynamic Duo."

"That's a Batman reference," the redhead said to the blonde, a large smile on her face.

"I got it," the girl said. "Although, you're more Batgirl, with the hair and the boobs and all."

Noah kissed Danny hard enough to drive the boy back. "I am so sorry! I was late leaving the station and I had to stop along the way. I came out to find the truck gone, my wallet gone and…I am so sorry."

"It's good," the boy assured him. "You're here now and you're okay. That's what matters."

"We're just going to be going," the blond said. "We'll settle with the hotel staff and make sure you get another room. Because of the door and all."

"Thank you," Noah said, extending his hand. "Thank you for saving him, Ms. Summers."

She cocked her head, fixing him with a curious gaze. "How did you know my name?"

"I pulled your friend over for speeding more than a few times in Beacon Hills. He's more than mentioned you, thinking it would get him out of trouble."

"Which friend?" She asked, still not taking the hand.

"Alexander Harris."

"So, you're the hard-ass sheriff who kept him overnight?"

"I thought it would teach him a lesson."

The redhead chuckled. "You don't know Xander."

After taking the man's hand, the blonde gave it a firm shake. "Good to meet you, Sheriff Stilinski. My mother has nothing but good things to say about you."

"I'm afraid I don't know your mother," he said, still holding her hand.

"Good. If you did, I was about to kill you. That's what gave Chatty Kathy away before. Me and mine don't make a lot of friends who would name-drop at a nightclub." She let go of his hand. "I would be careful if I were you. The new wall ornament is the stalkery type. They like to trail their victims, get into their head so far, they think they are the person they're impersonating."

"And if I've got one of these things trailing me, I might have more," Noah said, understanding her point.

"I'd be looking over my shoulder, especially if you're dealing with a lot of paranormals. That's how they get your scent in the first place." She went to retrieve her axe. "One other thing, you two best get yourselves to a new room and stay there for the rest of the night. Capiche?"

"We'll do it, and thank you again."

Once the girls were gone, Noah began gathering up Danny's things, careful to avoid the pile of goo now steaming in the corner. The boy dressed without looking at it either. Once they were ready, they walked out, into the night. Instead of getting another room, Noah took the keys from his pocket and hit the fob to unlock the door. Danny got in first.

"Good choice not to stay. Back to Beacon Hills, then?"

Noah closed the door. "Not on your life. We're going to Las Vegas."

"Vegas? Why?"

"I'm going to marry you while you're still you and I'm still me. Sound like a plan?"

"I'm down," Danny said with a broad smile. "Just promise me one thing?"

"Name it."

"I get to tell Stiles what happened on the night I became his step-dad."

***

 


End file.
